The enemy commander stood at the edge of the transport bay, her sharp eyes fixed on the lone transport vehicle that had just arrived. The cavernous hangar, normally bustling with activity, felt empty and subdued. Technicians moved quickly to offload the cargo, their hurried movements a faint echo of the chaotic skirmish this transport had barely survived.
“This is all?” she asked, her voice deceptively calm, though the edges of her tone hinted at suppressed anger.
Her aide, standing a few steps behind, hesitated before responding. “Yes, Commander. This is the only transport that made it through the ambush.”
The commander’s jaw tightened, and she stepped closer to the vehicle. Its armor was scorched and pitted, telltale signs of the intense fire it had endured. The technicians pried open a crate, revealing neatly stacked components inside—composites, energy cores, and bundles of high-grade wiring. Supplies her forces desperately needed.
She exhaled sharply, her gaze shifting to the aide. “One transport out of four. And we call this a success?”
The aide swallowed hard. “Given the intensity of the attack, it’s remarkable anything got through, ma’am. The contents seem intact—critical materials for production, as requested.”
The commander studied the components for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. “Good,” she said finally. “Have it sent to the factory ship immediately. We’ll put it to use in the next round of production.”
“Commander,” the aide ventured carefully, “should we inspect the cargo here first? It’s possible the enemy allowed this transport to escape as part of a larger strategy. There could be—”
“No,” the commander interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. “We don’t have the luxury of delays. Those materials are essential, and the factory ship is already behind schedule. We’ll inspect it during processing, if necessary.”
he aide hesitated, glancing at the technicians as they continued their work. “But if there’s even a chance—”
“I said no,” the commander snapped, her sharp gaze cutting him off mid-sentence. “Do you think I’m unaware of the risks? Of course they could have tampered with it. But every hour we waste inspecting this shipment is another hour our factories sit idle. We don’t have time to second-guess every piece of cargo that comes through.”
Her aide nodded stiffly, clearly uncomfortable but unwilling to challenge her further. “Understood, Commander. I’ll see to it that the shipment is loaded immediately.”
The commander turned back to the transport as the technicians finished loading the crates onto automated lifters. The cargo was already being prepped for the shuttle that would take it to orbit, where her largest factory ship, Indomitable, waited. The ship was a marvel of engineering, capable of mass-producing her military’s most advanced Hercs, but it was perpetually short on the specialized materials needed for its work.
“We’re relying on this,” the commander murmured, more to herself than to her aide. “Without a steady flow of resources, our factories grind to a halt. Our entire strategy depends on maintaining production.”
Her aide remained silent, watching as the final crate was secured. The transport’s battered frame seemed a fitting symbol of their precarious situation—constantly battered, barely holding together, but still moving forward.
Once the cargo was loaded, the commander addressed the lead technician: “You have your orders. The shuttle is to launch immediately. There will be no delays.”
The technician saluted. “Yes, Commander. The factory ship will receive it within the hour.”
The aide took a tentative step forward and was clearly reluctant to raise the issue again. “Commander, I understand the urgency, but if this cargo is compromised—”
She turned on him, her expression icy. “If it’s compromised, we’ll deal with it then. Until I see evidence otherwise, I won’t cripple our production over paranoia. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, lowering his gaze.
“Good,” she said curtly. “Make sure the factory ship begins processing as soon as it arrives. Every minute counts.”
The commander remained in the transport bay as the shuttle engines ignited, watching as the craft lifted off into the smoke-tinged sky. Her arms were crossed, her mind churning with the weight of a dozen decisions yet to be made. She knew the risks of her choice, but hesitation was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Without those materials, her war machine would stall—and the insurgents would press their advantage.
As the shuttle disappeared into the clouds, her aide spoke cautiously. “If I may, Commander, should we increase security around the factory ship? If the enemy is targeting our production lines, it might be their next logical move.”
The commander considered this, her expression hardening. “Yes,” she said finally. “Double the patrols and reinforce the ship’s defenses. I want every approach covered and no unauthorized personnel anywhere near that ship. If the enemy tries to interfere, they’ll regret it.”
The aide saluted and hurried off to relay her orders, leaving the commander alone again. She stared at the space where the shuttle had been, her thoughts a storm of calculations and contingencies.
“They think they can outmaneuver me,” she muttered, her voice low and venomous. “Let them try. When their games end, I’ll be the one left standing.”
***
Stolen story; please report.
General Patton leaned over his cluttered desk, the faint glow of a holographic map illuminating the darkened room. He rubbed his temples, exhaustion pressing heavily against him after days of relentless planning and oversight. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps echoing down the hall, followed by the sharp knock of someone who had urgent news.
“Come in,” he barked, his tone sharper than intended.
A young technician stumbled into the room, his face flushed, his breathing quick. “General... the beacon,” he managed between breaths, clutching a datapad tightly to his chest.
Patton’s eyes snapped to him, the words instantly slicing through his fatigue. “What about it?” he demanded, straightening in his chair.
“It’s moving, sir,” the technician said, his voice shaking with excitement and nervous energy. “The transport—it’s lifting out of the atmosphere as we speak.”
Patton surged to his feet, his exhaustion forgotten. “Show me,” he ordered, motioning to the technician.
The technician hurried to the general’s console and linked his datapad to the central system. The holographic map flickered before zooming in on the tracked transport, now represented as a faint beacon moving rapidly upward. Its trajectory was clear—it was heading to orbit.
“They’re sending it to a factory ship,” the technician said, his words tumbling over each other in his haste. “We caught the signal as it left their surface defenses. It’s being transferred to one of their orbital manufacturing hubs.”
Patton’s mind raced, his sharp gaze locked on the flickering beacon. “Good,” he said, his voice steady. “That’s exactly what we wanted. Have we maintained the signal?”
“Yes, sir,” the technician replied. “The beacon is functioning perfectly. We’ll know exactly where it docks.”
Patton’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Then we just found their manufacturing hub. And with it, the heart of their operations.”
Patton turned to the technician. “How long until the transport reaches the factory ship?”
“Ten minutes, sir,” the technician replied. “We have a clear signal on the beacon. It’ll dock in orbit shortly.”
Patton tapped the console, his movements deliberate. “Contact the fleet. I want a single stealth ship on standby. It’ll carry the Black Egg into orbit, piggybacking the beacon’s signal. The device will be deployed once the transport is docked, and we’ll detonate it remotely.”
One of the officers hesitated. “Sir, if we use the Black Egg... nothing will be left. No salvage, no intelligence—nothing.”
“That’s the point,” Patton snapped. “We’re not here to play scavenger. That factory ship is their lifeline, their one chance to stay in this fight. We take it out, and they’re finished.”
The officers glanced at each other but said nothing further. They knew better than to argue with the general when his mind was set.
One of the senior officers approached, his expression tense. “Sir, a moment?”
Patton gestured for him to speak. The officer hesitated before continuing. “The Black Egg... we still don’t fully understand its yield. If this detonates—”
“It’s a fusion device,” Patton interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “Designed to annihilate anything in its immediate radius. Whatever the yield, it will be enough to destroy that ship.”
The officer frowned but nodded. “Understood, sir.”
In truth, Patton knew little of the Black Egg’s true nature. His intelligence teams had speculated it was a fusion weapon, an advanced prototype capable of vaporizing everything within a significant radius. What they didn’t realize—what no one in his command truly grasped—was that the Black Egg wasn’t just a bomb. It was a singularity device, a black hole bomb designed to collapse matter into an infinitely dense point, consuming everything around it until equilibrium was reached.
***
Onboard the enemy’s factory ship, the Black Egg sat quietly in one of the newly delivered crates. The ship was a behemoth, a floating city dedicated to manufacturing mechs and weapons of war. Its cavernous bays were filled with assembly lines, where robotic arms worked tirelessly to construct new machines. The supplies from the transport were already being distributed and integrated into various production lines.
Technicians moved past the crate containing the Black Egg without a second glance, their focus on their tasks. To them, it was just another shipment of essential materials—energy cores, composites, and wiring. They had no idea that within minutes, their ship would become the epicenter of a cataclysm, unlike anything they’d ever imagined.
***
“General,” a voice cut through the tense atmosphere in the command room. “The device is in position. Awaiting your command.”
Patton’s hand hovered over the activation control, his gaze fixed on the factory ship’s marker. He hesitated for only a moment, a brief flicker of humanity amid the cold calculus of war.
“Begin the activation sequence,” he ordered, his voice devoid of emotion.
The technician nodded, his hands moving swiftly across the console. “Sequence initiated. Detonation in three minutes.”
Patton folded his arms, his expression hard as stone. The room fell silent as the countdown began, the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on everyone present.
***
Alarms blared suddenly onboard the factory ship as the Black Egg came to life. Its smooth, obsidian-like surface began to glow faintly, radiating a dark energy. Technicians rushed to investigate the anomaly, their confusion quickly turning to panic as their instruments failed to register what they saw.
“What is it?” one of them shouted, their voice trembling.
Before anyone could answer, the Black Egg reached its critical state. The room was instantly consumed by a blinding flash of light, followed by an eerie silence. The singularity formed—a point of infinite density and gravity. The ship’s interior twisted and bent as the singularity began to draw in everything around it, machinery and personnel disappearing into the event horizon.
The factory ship’s massive frame groaned under the strain, entire sections collapsing inward as the singularity grew. Within moments, the ship was gone, swallowed whole by the black hole it had unwittingly brought aboard.
***
In the command center, the holographic map was updated, and the factory ship's marker vanished instantly. The room erupted into murmurs of disbelief and awe, but Patton remained still, his gaze fixed on the now-empty space.
“Report,” he demanded.
“The ship... it’s gone,” the technician stammered. “It’s as if the ship never existed.”
Patton nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “Good. That’s one less threat to worry about.”
One of the officers stepped forward hesitantly. “Sir, if I may... was that... a fusion detonation?”
Patton glanced at him, his eyes cold. “It was what it needed to be,” he said simply.
The room fell silent again, the weight of what had just occurred settling over everyone. Patton turned back to the map, already considering his next move. The enemy’s production capabilities had been obliterated, their forces left scrambling. It was a decisive blow, but the war was far from over.
“Send word to all units,” he ordered. “The enemy has been crippled. We press the advantage now.”
As the officers moved to carry out his commands, Patton allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. The Black Egg had done its job, and no one would never know what had truly destroyed them.